


I told you that I love you, please believe me

by mrfruitpunch



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Criminal AU, Fix-It, M/M, My God these bitches gay, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:08:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23293756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrfruitpunch/pseuds/mrfruitpunch
Summary: Story continued at: https://fanfiction.online/story/411572
Relationships: Mr. Orange/Mr. Pink (Reservoir Dogs)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 126





	1. It’s a nice photo

Half-past 20th century or so, there was this thing called the Lavender Scare. Federal employees known or suspected to be gay (or bi, but these aren’t the kind of people to recognize that) were fired from their jobs en mass.  
Freddy read that somewhere, a footnote under the red scare, worded with more vitriol. 

Yeah they were still doing that in 1992, apparently. 

Evidence? Here he sits, in front of the Captain of the LAPD, called in for “Conduct outside of work”.  
Which would be bullishit, if he were anything but gay.

“Newandyke, you’re free to practice any lifestyle you want-” He wishes he could stop time like a movie and unpack all of that “-but here at the LAPD, we hold officers to a very high code of conduct in and out of uniform.”

He tries not to twitch, or interrupt or just burst out laughing. Maybe, just maybe he can salvage this.

“Sir, with all do respect,” you fucking asshole, “I haven’t done anything illegal, I complete all my work in a timely manner, I treat everyone I work with with respect-“ The captain raised his hand, it’s really hard not to twitch now. Freddy quieted.

“Officer McDaniels was working a drug bust at a certain club where… how do I put this… You might say, you see a lot of out there characters. A certain place where most men wouldn’t wanna go,” Oh god. Damage control, damage control.

“Captain, you can test me if you think I’m doing drugs-“ “I’m talking, Newandyke.” Freddy’s leg bounces nervously.

“This ain’t about the drugs.” He pulls out a photo, and slides it in front of Freddy. There he is, his face in a nightclub full of pink lights and other men, smiling to himself against a wall. Any other time, Freddy’d consider this a nice photo. He wasn’t even doing anything, just nursing a beer and smiling. 

“Now, Officer McDaniels comes up to me after the bust, shows me this. Freddy, what am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to do?” Freddy opens his mouth, he hadn’t decided on saying something either snide or groveling yet, but it was cut off.

“You made a promise to be an upstanding man. We can’t have this on the force and if you’re too far gone in all these Hollywood lights to realize that then I can’t have you here.” It wasn’t a yell, but everyone outside this office just heard that.Freddy sunk a bit in his chair, his eyes focused on the cheap, fake wood front of the desk.

He vaguely remembers being pulled into the principal's office one day, in the middle of science. He’d kicked another boy while roughhousing, and a recess monitor saw. That principal scared him so bad, he didn’t even think about misbehaving though high school. He felt so small in that chair, in that office isolated from the world as a grown man yelled at a child. He was glad he wasn’t that scared kid anymore, he could do what he pleased now.

The captain was in the middle of speaking, and Freddy knew this. He watched his face, the lines of it moving aggressively, and he realized how truthful the saying “flapping gums” was. It was like a Quicksilver moment, everything slow and still as he observed, but couldn’t hear. 

There was a world outside of this office.

So Freddy stood up, mid-speech, said “thank you” and walked out. Painless, like ripping off a bandaid. He felt weightless, walking through the office filled with eyes, pupils dilated to focus on him. He picked up his jacket from his otherwise barren desk, and walked through the front door. Welcome, to the world outside of the office.

Suddenly, Freddy didn’t feel so weightless.


	2. And this is how we met.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up, and you’re nowhere.

Everything, everything was real now. He just tied himself to a cinder block and dove head-first into the ocean. 

Apartment, home, mom, life, life how is Freddy going to live. You don’t exactly go interview-to-interview “oh my last job? Got sacked for suckin cocks.”

God he was working on so much too, Holdaway can handle the infiltration but that kid- Marvin? Man, he’s a rough case. And- shit his I.D., but he sure as hell ain’t walking back the three blocks he paced to awkwardly give it back. He’ll ship it or something- probably from his mother’s basement. 

He meandered to a bus stop, lighting the cigarette he pulled out without thinking. He is so fucked, he was already living like shit, what the hell is he supposed to do now? 

“Hey, man, can I get a light?” The man sat next to him asks, and Freddy obliges, startled he didn’t notice him before.

“What the hell are you so worked up about?” Freddy takes a quick inhale, god he was muttering to himself. You’re such a freak, Freddy, get ahold of yourself. This man isn’t here to be your therapist you’re just scaring him.

But sometimes you need to dump all your personal baggage on a random stranger.

“Just got fired, middle of a fuckin’ project too. It’s bullshit,” Freddy curses, bouncing his leg rapidly.

“That’s tough, man. What’d they fire you for? You seem like such a peaceful spirit,” His voice is smooth, and Freddy cracks up.

“Man, ‘Conduct Not Befitting Of The Lapd’,” Freddy physically uses air quotes “these fuckers beat their wives and gun people down for petty drug charges, but no I go to a gay bar off hours.”

The stranger scoffs, “that’s cops for ya,” Freddy has to nod. 

“Why were you one in the first place?” He continues, and Freddy shrugs.

“As a kid, I wanted to be the next Captain America,” The man follows, nodding.

“Captain America ain’t too high paying?”

“Apparently they already ‘had a guy’,” Freddy laughs. “So, I think cop is the next best thing y’know?”

“As opposed to Iron Man?”

“I feel like the suit would pinch. So I get to bein’ a cop, and it’s nothing heroic but I think ‘ok, no glamor in dirty work, it’ll have a high point’.” Freddy shakes his head slowly to the contrary.

“Well, ‘least you’re fired now,” he crosses his legs with a finality. Freddy looks at him for a moment, his button-up shirt was ugly- not more so than anything Freddy owned- but he pulled it off. His hair fell in front of his face messily, in front of aviators. He pulled it off. Don’t stare, Freddy. 

The silence didn’t last long, nor did his forced not-staring at the sidewalk. The bus came, and they got on, snuffing out their cigarettes. 

“Hey man, when you’re looking for work, give me a holler,” the stranger passes him a card before disappearing into the packed bus of faces. 

It’s plain, just a number without a name. Freddy really hopes it’s not porn- well, with him he might not mind. But he’ll exhaust his other options first.


	3. I gave birth to twin wire hangovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holdaway is a good character we should appreciate him more

“So, what’d they get you for? Drugs?” Marvin was, being kind, the most basic kind of energy you could experience. It wasn’t bad, it was better for investigations - even if you could read him you couldn’t find much. Maybe that was just what anyone looked like, sitting next to “Disco never died” Holdaway. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Freddy breathed, looking down at the table. “I’ll get you that case file, it’s somewhere in my apartment, I just need to get everything in order. In the meantime- learn to write your own, alright?”

“Yeah ‘cause I’m not doin’ it for ya,” Holdaway picks at Freddy’s fries casually before he hits his hand away, causing Holdaway to chuckle.

“Eh, there’s not much these guys do...There’s that one guy, from Wisconsin, but it’s a run of the mill robbery; we bust these guys at their rendezvous and that’s it.” Marvin shrugged, “seriously, what did you get busted for? You’re so clean.”

“Marv, let the man be,” Holdaway knew. Freddy and him didn’t talk about it, but he knew and Freddy knew he felt guilty. He hoped he and Holdaway would talk out of work, yet it was all so fleeting.

Marvin didn’t quite catch the silent communication between the two, “Got caught with a prostitute? Stole a comic book?” He chuckled to himself, and, for a Mcdonald’s on a corner in LA in the middle of the day, everything else seemed quiet.

Freddy glances around, at a clock- he’s should go soon, but he can’t leave on that note. There’s not much else to leave on, though. Holdaway looks at him, and God, did they have some good times. Everything seems so far in the past now, being the gangly new kid assigned to someone who could only be straight out of the coolest daytime crime show to grace a tv set. Now it all feels like it was cancelled, mid-series, like that live-action Spider-man show. He feels like he disappointed Holdaway, not for being gay or even for getting fired, but for not concluding some bigger arc Holdaway could help him through. If he had more time or knew how to make better use of it- shit Marvin’s still waiting for a response, talking without any audience. How long has Freddy been thinking this over? Just fucking say something, Jesus.

“I’m gay, Marvin. I got fired ‘cause I’m gay.” Marvin’s quiet now, then snorts. Freddy’s just looking at Holdaway now, there’s an understanding- Freddy isn’t sure of what though. 

“I’ve gotta get going,” Freddy slides out of the booth and Holdaway follows, “it’s been great working with you.” He really tries not to choke up and extends a hand to Holdaway. It’s a firm handshake and reminds Freddy of what he can imagine being a father’s handshake.

“Don’t be a stranger, Freddy.” He didn’t know it, but that was the last time they’d see each other for a while- or even be called Freddy. 

Back at his apartment, he sits on his insanely lonely, yet still crowded, dinner table. The newspaper was discarded on the kitchen tile, the job page was too much yet too little and he’d exhausted the funny pages. He eyed the phone, calling card in hand. Porn isn’t so bad- porn isn’t the problem Freddy. 

He forces himself to look at something else and loses himself in the Jack Kirby prints on his wall. Strong linework, colors as vibrant as one could make, the very roots of comic art. And god, it set in for Freddy painfully late that it can’t be real. He knows he can’t be a hero, they’re not real and he realized that long ago, but it feels like a whole different level now. Whatever opportunity there is to be a hero, he’s not allowed to be near, he guesses. Was there even such an opportunity? 

If it was, it’s gone and Freddy built his life around it. Like a house built on a sand dune, maybe he was stupid for building it like this in the first place. And now there’s nothing left for him. Fuck, when you move out to L.A. at 19 to be a police officer, you expect one thing to stick.  
Goodbye, Officer Newandyke. Hello, whoever this is supposed to be.


	4. I think I can surely rely on you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay you can bring your fuckin’ twink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally hate Quentin Tarantino and these are my characters now
> 
> Sorry if this is dialogue heavy, ao3 won’t let me format it right

Pink sat in the passenger's seat of White’s car, smoking out of the open window. His mind was just as smoky, he couldn’t get that stranger in an oversized jacket and cuffed jeans out of his head. What was his project? The odds of him knowing anything about this heist- they’d be insane.

The odds the cops would even be onto this are little, but there was something scuttering around his brain, burrowing into it, saying that this had been compromised. Joe wasn’t particularly unknown, fuck who knows what Blonde could have let slip- or even what he lead the cops to.

Who the hell knows, how is he gonna bring anything up to Joe without seeming insane or like a rat-

“Can you say something? You’re driving me insane over here,” White interrupts his train of thought without looking up from the road.

“Man, I know you think I’m crazy but-”

“This again? I told you, have faith in the system,” How can he be so casual about this when something’s screaming at Pink that they’re all gonna die? 

“Listen, listen I might have a lead on this! There was this twink at the bus stop-” Pink threw his arms up as he spoke, in his defense. 

“And you blew him for evidence on your conspiracies?” 

“Ha-fucking-ha, no. He just got fired from the precint for being gay, says he was in the middle of a project,” He slowed his hand motions, circling one in a “and so” manner.

White paused, raising his eyebrows. “And that’s the evidence?”

“If this guy was even in the station for a day, among all the pigs, he’d hear something about a bust, right? Right?” He presses, and White’s quiet now, Pink continues slowly.

“So I gave him a number, said I could help him if he needs it.”

“Y’know that makes you sound like a pimp, right?” White laughs, looking over.  
“No it fuckin’ doesn’t.”

“Yes it fuckin’ does, I had this cousin out in New York n’ he talked exactly like that,” 

“Ain’t that the one who got killed by a taxi driver?” Pink could have sworn he read something like that, maybe White was right- anyone can be dangerous. A fuckin’ taxi driver, pimps suck but that’s a surprise.

“Not the point,” He waves the question off, “if this guy calls and you start pokin’ around the police’s business, you think he won’t go running to say something?”

Pink snuffs out his cigarette and lets it fly out of the window.  
“If I sound so much like a pimp and he calls, I doubt he’s the kind to go runnin’ to the police.” He leans against the car door casually.

White chuckles, and shakes his head. “Joe’s never gonna go for it.”

He looks to Pink for a second, and White sees the gears turning, “and if Joe finds out you’re calling up ex-LAPD twinks, he’ll kill ya.” The conversation turns to stone, Joe doesn’t take risks on tipping off the police.

Pink shakes his head, he understands this. “Either him or the police I guess,” he takes a short breath, “I’ve seen a few too many cruisers around the rendezvous.” Pink will concede, he should have admitted this sooner.

The tone is still hard as a rock, but White looks down to his hands, and continues to let Pink speak. He knows, they both know, if Pink can get to White he can get to Joe. 

“Not just cruisin’, mind you, stopped to get gas at that place down the street from it, and they were just there. They’re never at that gas station, they have no reason to be, I’ve been to it a million times. Nothing ever happens.”

Pink leaves it there, the sun’s setting now, peeking through alleys, and early twilight yellow glinting again his sunglasses. White absorbs the information, breathing it in, like he has to memorize it. 

“You told Joe about your theory?” His voice is steady, like a father’s. Okay, finally, he gets it. Pink shakes his head.

“Don’t, yet. I’ll bring it up to ‘im, tell him what you got and if, *if* he clears this, then you can call up your twink.” Sometimes you had to be just as careful around Joe as you did around the police, no rest for the wicked.

“You hungry? I’m starving, let’s get something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any thoughts please drop them below I’d love to hear them, thank you for all the kudos, they motivate me a lot to keep working on this story!


	5. Mr. Pink's Homoerotic Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> C. 6 coming soon, I just figured it'd be better to break up the call and the club scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating sooner! I've been working on some other things and I wanted to know if there's any more interest for this pairing. I have some ideas, namely soulmate aus, having an extended canon with movies like Fargo or Airheads, or something to do with the afterlife like The Good Place.

It’s not that hard Freddy, it’s one phone call. It’s like a staring contest with the landline.

The reports he was ‘helping’ Marvin write piled up on his dining table, papers that found better uses as coasters trapped under comic books and graphic novels. The single table had more stuff on it than he had in his bedroom, as most nights Freddy killed over on his work, shit was it even work when he didn’t get paid?

It was both too crowded and yet too barren. The only sign it was Freddy Newnandyke’s was the comics and the few prints on the wall. 

He did have one saving talent, one real life force, but it’s not the kind that makes money. Just time to buckle down and look for new work. Maybe a private detective, a mall cop, save for the embarrassment it would be, would allow him a lot of personal time… everything just sounds so tragically boring. 

Freddy sits down at his table, head propped up in his hand, pondering yet nothing crossing his mind. He really shoulda gone to college instead of the academy. 

He’s staring at his phone, contemplating the strange (porn?) man. His mustache didn’t scream porn though, gay night club? He should call anyway, just to get the gist...or ask him out, at least. 

Wait shit, was that guy hitting on him? He was freaking out so hard Freddy hardly noticed. Fuck, now he has to call. Or maybe he’s just making up excuses to ask the guy out- that doesn’t make sense, he was just making excuses not to call the guy-JESUSCHRISTFREDDYJUSTCALLTHEGUY.

Being jobless for a day has really driven him off the deep end.

So, Freddy pushes the rest of the wild thoughts out of his mind and calls, spacing out as the phone rings. 

“Hello?”

Shit, he didn’t expect to make it this far. What was he gonna say? It’s a million years as he tries to figure it out-

“Hello?” He shakes his head, collecting his thoughts. The voice on the other end is waiting. 

“Hey, it’s uh, it’s the guy from the bus stop.” Freddy says quickly.

“Oh yeah! Captain America!” The voice on the other end brightens and Freddy chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah, I was thinkin’ on your offer, what’s it about anyway?”

“I’ve got something that needs some police expertise, I’ll get you a nice cut.”  
“Alright, what’s the time frame?”

“Can you do tonight? Say, that one bar on 5th?”

“That got busted a few days ago, I doubt you’re the illegal type, but...”

“Damn, really? See, this is why I need ya. There’s a place a few blocks down, near that ‘adult theater’.”

“Sounds good,”

“Cool, see you at eight.”

See, Freddy? Quick and painless, like any other job interview.

Wait, shit, did he just get asked out, or is he actually on a job.

“The fuck you mean you might have asked him out?” Mr. White said as Pink stood up.

“Oh fuck you,” Pink turns to face him. “Least I’m makin’ some fuckin’ headway, making sure the cops don’t shut us down. You’re just mad Joe went with my idea,”

“Your idea to get some ex-cop in your pants?”

“You have a real fascination with the homoeroticisms in my life.”

“What happened to that ‘professionalism’ shtick?” White stood up to be at eye-level with Pink, still falling slightly short.

“Do you see him on my dick?” Pink raises his voice, and cuts of White as he opens his mouth. “Do you see him on my dick right now? That’s what I thought, I’m not bringing personal shit into this. If he thinks it’s a date, and that gets him here, then fine. But, unlike you, I don’t go around fuckin’ any twink with puppydog eyes.” There was a silence, “We’re meeting him at eight, at that place near the porno theater.”

White was already moving to leave Pink’s apartment, “Well aren’t you classy on the first date?”  
He then shut the door forcefully.

“God, I’m the only one with a fuckin’ brain in this operation,” Pink whispered to himself.


	6. Taking What's Not Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe one day they'll meet outside a haze of anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out, please leave any feedback you have, I'd love to hear it.

Whenever Nice Guy came to pick him up, he always stood a block away from his apartment. Don’t matter how long he’s known him, if Nice Guy knows something and you’re not Mr. Blonde, all of L.A. knows it in a matter of time. Mr. Pink doesn’t plan on double crossing him yet, but you never know where you’ll find yourself. Especially not anymore, on deck with a damn cop and vouching for him, White might have had a point. You know you’ve fallen when Mr. White’s reasonable. Don’t matter, you get the ex-rat to chase out the current rat, cut him in, it’s fine. 

Pink picks at his nails and resists a cigarette, he’s already smoking like a fuckin’ chimney over this. He considers going inside the convenience store behind him for a coffee; but he can’t pull his gaze from the asphalt illuminated by orange streetlights and the fluorescents of the convenience store. So deep in thought all he can think about is how he shouldn’t be this deep in thought, how his hair falls, how his clothes rub, how still everything is. Every detail of the asphalt is illuminated, like neon spilled. He doesn’t remember when it stopped raining, it was too light. 

His ride honks, it echoes through the empty street and rattles him. Eddie’s car, White in the passenger’s seat, he kinda hated always having to sit in the back. He was always there with some skittish newbie, now “Mr. Orange”, who twiddled his fingers and stayed quiet for the entire ride. He doesn’t expect Letterman or a life story, but some banter was to be desired.But…this wasn’t going to be a problem for Pink, tonight. He opened the car door to an empty backseat.

“Where’s Mr. Orange?” He asks as he gets in. 

“He either wasn’t home or wasn’t answering,” Eddie’s tense, he can tell immediately. Radio’s low, short answers, not ready to show contempt but far from being a ‘nice guy’. He can’t tell if the stress in the car is coming from Mr. Orange’s absence or the possibility of a rat. For all they know, Mr. Orange could be ratting on them right now. Nobody would’ve told him about the significance of tonight’s meeting; but once that theory spreads in a heist, no matter how small, you got everyone paranoid and you never know who will try a deal with the police to save their skin. 

Pink’s hunch better be right, for his own good. Nobody wants him to be, even himself, but all the trouble he caused is too big to be nothing. Reining in an ex-cop, stirring shit up, he took the risk and didn’t even think about it. That being said, Orange’s absence partially validated him. He wouldn’t point to him if put on the spot, Pink wasn’t like that, but Orange was just off. Everyone remembers their first heist after a few years of drug dealing or underground games, you’re skittish, trying to be one of the guys, yet quiet and not exactly ready for what you’re gonna see. Pink’ll probably feel awful for thinking this, but nothing about Mr. Orange fit. He was a bit too eager to talk in the beginning, never off his game, every step was either practiced or expected. He never let the tough guy mask slip, new guys never keep it up. It’s a double-edged sword, you want seasoned, unshakable guys, but cocky new guys could ruin you in so many ways.

Rat or not, it’s annoying. Like Eddie’s silent angry driving. 

Eight rolled by, Freddy’s leaning on a neon pink bar, twiddling his thumbs and in a coat twice his size and debated ordering a drink. He’s debating a lot of things. On one hand, he’s selling out, on the other hand, L.A.’s boys club ostracized him and left him jobless for nothing. Holdaway was the only person who gave him the time of day. They both kept trying to be heroes, eventually they stopped taking write-ups from Freddy and Holdaway about their co-workers. Diamonds are insured, no one gets hurt, but something held him back. Maybe it’s admitting he was wrong this whole time. He decides to order that drink.

Pink meanwhile, exited Nice Guy’s car in front of the bar, entering with White and Nice Guy, his sunglasses immediately rendered useless by the smoke and orange lighting. 

Eddie and White split immediately, this was Pink’s job. A quick scan of the place and his guy is there, by the bar and man, it looks like he got ditched on prom night. He’s a warm neon under the lights, holding a beer, he’s wearing the jacket Pink first saw him in- it looks more like a safety blanket, closed off to everyone else. 

“Hey, surprised to see you here,” Pink leans on the bar next to Freddy, trying to break the ice.

“You and me both, man,” He unwinds a bit, and Pink notices his tank top tucked into his jeans. How did this guy just now get fired for being gay? There’s a lull, neither ready to incriminate themselves with the first step. 

“You ready?” Pink asks after ordering a beer. 

“I couldn’t tell ya,” Freddy looks to the floor, putting his back to the bar. “On one hand, fuck them, on the other, what does it make me when I go running to the other side once I get burned?”

“Damn,” Pink muttered, he felt Eddie staring at him, didn’t need to turn to look. He forced a chuckle, though, “that’s the problem with you guys, gunked up moral compass. Come with me for a sec.” He took Freddy’s arm, who followed with little protest into the bar’s bathroom.

“Listen if you wanna drug me to loosen me up, it’ll just turn me into a hot mess. I haven’t done anything since ‘87-” 

“No, idiot, I gotta check you for a wire, take your shirt off.” Pink leaned against the bathroom door so no one would interrupt the “interrogation”.

He was surprised, but not hesitant. Freddy chuckled nervously and took off his jacket, then tanktop.

As he did this, Pink asked “So you’re not too sure about doing this?”  
“Is it contradictory to say I am, but then strip to prove I’m not a cop anymore?” Orange took off his jacket and rested it on a nearby sink.

Pink laughed, “I don’t think so, it’s a weird situation.” Freddy was trained for this, wise guys making you feel special, getting friendly. But, fuck, the wise guys are the only one offering money right now. 

He couldn’t know it, as he took his tank top off, but manipulating him into schemes was the farthest thing from Pink’s mind. All Pink could think about was that being the fall guy for risky shit could have its perks.

With a blush on his shoulders and ears, Freddy turned around and then back. Clean as any con man would want. 

Pink snapped back to reality a little bit, and broke the silence. “Being nervous is normal, you won’t have any problems with this. We just need to clear you and get whatever information you have, nobody gets hurt.” He stepped away from the door as Freddy put his shirt back on.

“Yeah?” Freddy asked, and Pink gave a soft nod.

Freddy continued,”I’m not even sure if I should care if anyone gets hurt, I just don’t want anyone mixed up in it. That gunked up moral compass I guess.” 

“Hey,” Pink put a hand on Freddy’s bare shoulder, “nobody’s gettin’ hurt. You’re gonna be out of here soon, cops won’t know a thing, jewelers insured up the ass. We’re professionals, it won’t be some blood bath.” 

In any other situation, he wouldn’t make these promises even to himself. But this guy, he’s shiny, new, and really, really close. The bathroom lighting was off, bright yet dingy, gifting everything in it with faint discoloration, but when he looked up at Pink he was still great.

Freddy didn’t know what he was doing this close, Pink doesn’t either. But, he quickly puts his leather jacket back on and takes a breath, resetting the tension in the room. 

“I think you’re right.”


	7. Discontinuing my use of AO3

I’ll keep it brief: ao3 has decided real person fiction involving minors is not pedophilic by nature. This site is harboring literal pedophilic content they will not remove and I frankly can’t stand that. Any and all updates, and the rest of my Mr. Pink/Mr. Orange fanfiction will be on fanfiction.online. Here’s the link to this story: https://fanfiction.online/story/411572

I want to thank you all so much for reading this story, as I really love these characters. Please, I ask you to stop using this site as well. It’s literally a matter of time before federal organizations have to step in and they will shut this down.

**Author's Note:**

> //song that’s so gratuitously mentioned is “Mr. Blue” by Catherine Feeny


End file.
